Web of Fate
by AgeOfEdward
Summary: The night Edvard was born, the Fates sealed his destiny. He grew into his role of a warrior, but his heart never belonged to the jarl's daughter as the Fates intended. Instead it belonged to another, a seer named Elísabet. But can true love cut the thread that even the Gods could not?


**Title of Story: **Web of Fate

**Word Count: **5318

**Type of Edward: **norseward

**Category (Literotica or Young Adult): **Literotica

**Story Summary: **The night Edvard was born, the Fates sealed his destiny. He grew into his role of a warrior, but his heart never belonged to the jarl's daughter as the Fates intended. Instead it belonged to another, a seer named Elísabet. But can true love cut the thread that even the Gods could not?

**Standard Disclaimer: **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Web of Fate**

The long house was full this night. The boats had returned with treasures from the East, and it was time to celebrate and give thanks to the gods. With luck, Odin had smiled on them and the winter would be brief.

The air was filled with the sound of drums, chatting, and laughter. One of Jarl Ari's attendants had produced a harp. Its plaintive sound could barely be heard over the clatter of stone cups and the lewd laughter of the men.

Elísabet, from the time she was a still a young girl clinging to her mother's skirts, had always loved the parties thrown by the Jarl and his wife. She loved the smell of rich, fatty meats roasting over open flames and the taste of a strong ale on her tongue. She would let the beat of the drum seep into her bones and carry her through the night. As the daughter of the seer, she knew what it was to commune with the gods, but it was the communing with the gods' creations that had always fascinated her most.

This night was different. She weaved through the bodies and smoke—a ghost amongst men. She ignored the call of men longing for the warmth of a woman's body. The months had been long on the seas, after all. She knew where she was going and managed to block out the crowd around her.

He was hard to miss. The bronze fire of his hair stood out through the haze that filled the air. The sharp planes of his face were highlighted in the glow from the fires. He was surrounded, and appeared to be retelling a story. He used his hands to talk, and Elísabet was enraptured watching the muscles in his arm ripple as he made grand gestures. His fingers were long, graceful. He had the fingers of a musician, not a warrior, yet she knew that he was more than capable on the battlefield. Her mother had prophesied over him as a babe. It appeared Odin was more than pleased with him.

As if sensing her gaze, his green eyes flashed up to hers. She was still standing in the back of the longhouse. How he saw her small body, hiding amongst the crowd, she would never know. As soon as their eyes met, his words died out and he stared, transfixed in her gaze. It was shock, awe, and no small amount of reverence. She was a goddess too good for the realm of Midgard and he was her vassal.

His lips turned up into a beautiful smile—blissful and mischievous. So many months at sea, yet here he was. The entire community surrounded them, but they were the only beings in each other's eyes. Time had not dimmed her beauty, nor his fierceness.

Elísabet spoke more with her eyes than her lips. He saw eternity in her gaze, and would have chased her to end of this earth and the next to remain in it.

She crooked her finger, drawing him forward, then disappeared into the sea of people. It wasn't hard for her to weave through the people still celebrating in the longhouse. She was ethereal and unnoticed unless she wanted to be.

Slipping through the crowd, she made it out the door. The thick, warm air inside gave away to the cool autumn breeze. Winter was coming and with it, the snows. Elísabet knew time was short and sent a silent prayer to Freya and Lofn that the fates would be kind this night.

Before he could catch her, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and set out across the street. She could feel him behind her, following her trail through the mists. The forest loomed tall and foreboding before them, but that was where she was heading.

They should have been frightened. The forests were haunted and she was but a girl, barely a woman, and the daughter of the seer. The hold would come to depend on her visions when the gods reclaimed her Mother. He was a warrior, strong and fierce in battle as only Thor had been before him. His enemies were flesh and blood. Their bones could break and their life's blood could spill, but his sword had no power over the spirits that roamed the woods. His battle cry could not scare them, and his strength would have no effect over them.

Neither of them gave thought to their fear, however. The night was dark, and the mists hid them from the world. They knew these paths and the forests were home. The spirits would respect their coupling in a way that their own people never would have.

He caught her as she stepped foot into the glade. His strong, calloused hands grabbed her wrist, twisting her to face him. His lips descended and he kissed her with ravenous force. His moan filled the moonlit glade and she melted into his embrace. His arms held strong to her waist and she could feel the warmth seeping off his body.

Elísabet clung tight to his shoulders. The furs and leather of his clothing were soft and smooth, but she longed for the roughness of his skin. With his lips still devouring hers, she reached for the ties of his tunic. She fumbled with the knots and moaned as her frustration grew. She needed him. It had been many long months since she had felt him against her. She had spent the summer uncertain as to where he was, or if the Valkyries had taken him to Valhalla. She had been unable to show her worry and fear with the other women. No one could know they did this. She had been alone in her thoughts.

He pulled away from her long enough to slip the leather over his head. The hard planes of his chest were exposed to her hungry eyes. She wasn't given much time to drink him in. His lips were soon on her neck, licking, sucking and biting the creamy skin there. She arched in his arms, offering herself as a sacrifice to him and only him.

"Elísabet," he moaned, his voice deep and smooth like the roar of the thunder. "My beautiful, Bet. I have missed you."

Elísabet's skin warmed as the childhood nickname fell from his lips. She still remembered the teasing smile he would give her as he chased her through the streets of the village. They had been playmates and confidants. She had soaked his bruises when he learned to fight, and only she had known how much it hurt. He was the only one who shortened her name. Only he called her Bet.

"Edvard," she whispered, for once forgetting the gods, and the jarl, and the whole hold. Nothing existed in that moment but his arms around her and his lips against the tender skin of her neck. Her fingers twisted into his long, thick hair, and she clung to him as if the mists would make him disappear. "You were gone too long."

He made a low sound of contentment and nuzzled against her. The rough hairs of his short beard tickled her sensitive skin and sent a shiver of delight down her spine. "I came back as soon as I could." His breath was hot against her skin and his arms tightened, holding her closer to the warmth of his skin.

"It was still too long. I was so lonely. There was no one I could talk to. You took them all with you."

Edvard pulled away and placed Elísabet back on her feet. He dwarfed her in size—she looked small and delicate next to him—but he knew the true strength of her heart. She was no warrior. She had never taken part in play fighting with the other children, but she was more certain and stout than the greatest warrior Edvard knew. So while she looked small next to him, she appeared to be a giant in his eyes.

His large hands cupped her cheeks, the light of the moon reflected in her eyes. "I followed the jarl the battle, but my heart was here with you. Whether we are in secret or in front of the whole horde, it is always yours, Bet. You are my first thought when I wake in the morning, and the last when my eyes close at night."

The smile that grew across her face was blinding. She knew their future was limited, but that would not stop her from loving him while there was still yet time. "As you are mine, Edvard."

His lips swooped down to hers, and this time they were gentle and loving. Their souls caressed each other's like ancient lovers, recognizing their other half. For the first time in months Edvard and Elísabet felt complete. Time was foremost in their minds, and it seemed to be ticking down all too fast. It was borrowed from the gods, and they would soon demand payment.

Their lips grew hungrier, fever again taking over. The cold mists swept in and hid them from the world. Elísabet's fingers traced the planes of Edvard's bare back. She could feel the fine tremors snake through him. His hardness, still contained behind the leather of his pants, pressed into her stomach as he held her.

One of Edvard's hands held a handful of her thick brown hair, while the other bunched the soft white fabric of her cloak. He had never seen her in something so fine, and it had left him breathless when he first saw her in the longhouse. She had appeared out of the crowd and smoke as a ghost, and he still wasn't convinced she wasn't a spirit walking out of his dreams.

Elísabet pushed against his chest and he released her. He watched, spellbound as she pulled the golden cord at her throat. The cloak fell to her feet with a whisper, revealing every graceful line of her body. She had worn nothing under the white cloak, her body a feast for his eyes. He had not seen her like this since he left to go viking with the jarl. He felt like a man being offered a drink of cold water after traversing a great dessert.

She blushed under his studious gaze but had not felt so alive in months. His blazing green eyes turned her skin to fire.

The chilly air caused her nipples to harden. Edvard's eyes roamed her body, drinking in the sight of her. She was the apple of his eye. He only wished he could claim her before the eyes of the company. She belonged to him in the eyes of the gods, but to the hold, she was an unclaimed woman, young and in her prime. His ultimate worry was that one of the men would drink too much one night and forget his place. Bet was a seer, and one day she would take her place to lead the people in following the gods. If one man decided to ignore the gods' will and sullied Elísabet, she would be unable to do so.

There was another reason, of course. Edvard loved his Bet. He had since they were children. He had always known what she was and would be, so he had worshiped the ground she walked on. She was the light he followed in the darkness. He had never meant to touch her. It wasn't his place. He was a humble warrior, not meant to be with one important as a seer. It would be up to the jarl, her mother, and the gods whom she wedded.

Bet had claimed her bed was her own, and she would take there whomever she wanted. Edvard had been as powerless in front of her then as he was now. So they hid their love and approached each other in secret. They were faithful to each other, and would be for as long as they could. They knew time was not on their side. The jarl had taken a shine to Edvard, and Elísabet was of birthing age. Their time together was coming to a close.

The world seemed to be a weight on Edvard's shoulders as he fell to his knees in front of her. His rough fingertips ran up the skin from her waist to the underside of her breasts. She gasped as he teased her body. Edvard leaned forward and kissed her navel. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her close to his body. Her fingers combed through his hair as his lips pressed soft, feathery kisses into her stomach. His touch warmed her skin, erasing the effects of the wind. He was lost in the silk under his fingers and lips. She was heaven, and he never wanted to leave.

He worshipped the woman before him, showing her more devotion than he had ever shown a god. He cared for her more than he had ever cared for anyone. She was soft and warm in bed, and her tongue was sharper than any blade. She was wise beyond her young age. Smarter than many man he knew. He was constantly in awe of her beautiful body and wonderful mind.

His lips wandered down to the soft patch of brown curls between her thighs. He felt her breath hitch as he wandered lower, seeking out the soft folds that lead to her sex. Edvard loved eating her sweet pussy, hearing the soft cries that came from her lips. Her pleasure only made his greater.

His hands held both globes of her bottom as his tongue reached out to part her lower lips. Her breath came out in a gasp and her body tensed as his tongue delved into her. Her mind went blank as fire began to spread through her limbs. The flames began spreading up her body, leaving a delicious numbness in their wake. Then his tongue would flick her clit again and start it all over.

One of his hands came down to her thigh, picked up her leg, and draped it over his shoulder. This opened her further to him and his tongue slipped into her wet heat. She had to grip his hair in tight fists—earning a grunt from Edvard—to order to remain on her feet. The waves of sharp pleasure that rushed through her body caused her to lose focus on the world around her. She just wanted him. She thrust wantonly against his face as wordless moans fell from her lips.

Edvard's lips turned up in a grin. He could feel how close she was to falling apart. Her inner walls were trying to grip his tongue and her tiny, sensitive nub had swollen and pulsed with her heartbeat. She only needed one sweet push to fall over the edge.

She felt one of his hands leave her ass as his lips wrapped around her clit. Her breath escaped her in a sigh as one long, graceful finger filled her. She rocked against him as the pleasure rushed over her. She tried to hold on, to continue to feel him filling her, but as he sucked, flicked, and thrust his finger into her, she lost her grip and fell. She screamed his name to the spirit-filled mists as the pleasure exploded within her.

He only stopped when he felt her jump away from him. She was too sensitive, and he knew she needed to recover. As she collapsed, he guided her spent body to fall against him. Her chest heaved as she breathed and Edvard found himself distracted as her breasts rose and fell. He crushed her against him as the forest quieted around them.

Elísabet lazily pressed small kisses against his neck and shoulders. Her limbs felt heavy, but she hadn't felt so contented in many months. Edvard was home, safe in her arms—for this moment at least.

She felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn't let herself think until that moment how she missed him, how much she needed him. The pleasure he brought to her was greater than any she had caused herself. So many long nights with only herself and her memories in the depths of the darkness. There was nothing that could ever compare to the softness of his tongue against her, the warmth of his arms around her waist.

She was suddenly overwhelmed as time came crashing down on her. She didn't know when, but all too soon they would be ripped apart. He was blessed by Odin. The Norns had weaved him a destiny that would take him far from her. Many seas and many lands away from their home was a land that needed him. They could only do as Odin commanded.

"Bet," he murmured low in her ear. "My beautiful girl, why do you cry? Tell me and I will slay it so it will never trouble you."

"What I fear cannot be undone." She buried her face in Edvard's neck, inhaling the smell of evergreen and the sea that clung to his skin. "It is older than either you or I, woven into our Web of Fate."

Gently his fingers pulled her face to where he could study it. Her endless brown eyes were heavy with sorrow and an ancient misery. Edvard's heart broke for her. He couldn't remember when last she had been happy and at peace. It had been too long since he had seen her truly smile. A winter had settled into her soul and he was powerless to stop it. "Did you see something, while I was away?"

Elísabet's visions had always been a drain on her. Knowing the future was a not a blessing, but a curse. The fact that she could not control when they came or what she saw only made them harder to bear. She was chosen by the gods, but she could only see what they willed. Sometimes it was the full story and sometimes it was only one moment. It could be maddening and it had driven seers crazy before. Edvard had been a constant source of comfort to her and the thought that she had been alone when one arrived pierced his soul.

Meekly, she nodded, unable to look him in the eye. "Our fates are separated. Yours lies across a great sea and mine walks the paths I have walked since we were children. I don't know the time exactly, but someday soon you will leave me."

Edvard shook his head. Elísabet could see the fire that had ignited in his eyes. He was stubborn. It was one of the things that made him a great warrior, but this was a battle that she knew he would be unable to win. "Never." His voice was made of steel and his arms formed a cage about her. "I will simply take you with me. Nothing will ever keep you away from me, Bet."

"Edvard, you can no more fight your destiny than the gods can fight theirs. They were woven as we were born, and they cannot be broken. I'm sorry, my love. I wish there was something..."

Edvard interrupted her by kissing the words out of her mouth. He would not listen. The gods and the Narns could be damned for all he cared. Elísabet was his, the other half of his soul, and that could not be broken-not by fate, not by death.

She clung to neck and became aware again of where they were. It was still night, deep in the haunted woods. No one knew they were there and no one could remove them from each other. This was their fate for this night. The rest would come later.

They became aware again of skin and touch. His hands again gripped the curve of her ass and pulled against him. She could feel his hardness, still hidden from her sight in his leathers, against her folds. She moaned against his lips as her hips began to swivel on their own accord.

The fire had been rekindled this time fueled by desperation, need, and an unfettered love. Edvard pushed her back on to her spread cloak and hovered over her. He was mesmerized by the sight of her body in the moonlight. Her pale skin was luminescent, like it would disappear at the first wisp of wind. Her skin was the color of the first snows and just as smooth. Her dark hair was a halo around her fair face, her eyes deep brown and overflowing with love and sorrow. He saw everything he needed in her gaze, and it humbled him in ways in nothing else ever could. It was a humbling that he gladly accepted, for in her eyes he saw everything that he needed to be.

Elísabet's fingers didn't shake as she reached for the ties of his leather. In one smooth motion, she pulled on the ends and slipped her hand inside. He shuddered as her small hand gripped his hard length. It had been too long. He hadn't availed himself of the women in the villages they had ravaged. He only had eyes for her. He wasn't sure how long he would last, but the moan that escaped his lips told her that he didn't want her to ever let go.

It took all the will power in his body to pull away from her long enough to shrug his trousers off. He returned to her as fast as he could, unwilling to be away. They kissed long and slow, their tongues twisting and hands wandering. The mists grew close, but they gave them no mind. The spirits would not bother them for this night.

Elísabet's hand wandered back down the hard planes of Edvard's chest. Her mouth had caressed every line before and she longed to do it again. Edvard would not wait however. Máni could only guide the moon across the sky for so long before the dawn reclaimed the land. Edvard had no intention of wasting the time they had.

Elísabet gasped and he thrust into her. The sudden intrusion was painful. She was no longer used to him being within her. She gripped his shoulders and forced herself to relax. Edvard rained small kisses down her face, knowing that he was hurting her and doing everything he could make up for it.

Slowly she loosened her grip and smiled. Edvard reclaimed her lips and began to move inside her. Elísabet groaned and raked her nails into his back. The sudden force of her actions drew a moan from her lover's lips. He intensified his thrusts driving himself into her.

Her back arched and her mouth opened in a sigh. The small sounds that rained from her lips only made Edvard harder. His body fell onto hers, covering every inch and pinning her to the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist in turn pinning him to her. They were one in that moment, a single fate, a single destiny, and a single entity under the moon.

A beat heard only by their ears drove them on. Lost in the song only they could hear, the pleasure they gave each other was paramount. Nothing else mattered. They were together and there was no past and no future, just that moment. It was a dance as old as time, and they had perfected it long ago. Their soul was one.

Edvard groaned in her ear. "Bet." His voice was low and husky and she could feel it through their crushed skin. "No matter what happens tomorrow or the next day, you must remember this. This is us, eternally."

She cried his name as the pleasure rushed over her. She was overwhelmed as the feelings crushed her under their weight. She clung to him with her body, pulling him under with her. The mists swallowed their cries and they were lost in a world of their own making.

Elísabet was first aware of Edvard's weight. He was heavy, but she did not mind. She had missed the weight of his body and the heat that seeped off of him in the long months he had been gone. She pressed a line of kisses up and down his neck. He muttered something she did not understand. He lifted himself off and rolled so that she could be tucked against his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, calming them both.

She felt small against him, like she was not strong enough to hold on. The tears were again pricking her eyes and she tried to ignore them. This moment was too perfect—and too fleeting—to mar with her transitory

emotions.

Edvard's lips found hers and kissed her like a dying man. They were all too aware that this moment was stolen and the next not guaranteed. They stayed entwined in the night, unwilling to let go and let the moment pass.

Elísabet was unaware of how much time had passed when she felt him stir again. Edvard pulled them so that they were sitting on the crumpled remains of her cloak. "We should head back. Someone will be missing us."

"Promise me this is not the last we will be alone?" She was a little ashamed of how scared her voice sounded. She was a seer of the gods, a humble servant of Odin All-Father. Fear had no place in her body or mind. She must remain strong and stout in the face of all danger, as the warriors did. When it came to the love she felt for this man, all the training she had placed in her mind seemed to disappear. She needed him and the thought of losing him was enough to shatter her mind.

Edvard's hand cupped her cheeks and forced her to meet her gaze. His unusual green eyes were fierce in their anger and power. She was trapped powerless in his gaze. "I will never leave you. I don't care about fate, or what the gods want from me. I only care about you. No matter where I go or where I am sent, I will always come back for you. Believe me?"

She knew if anyone had enough fire in their spirit to defy the Norns and the gods themselves, it was her Edvard. She nodded. He would be strong and she would find her strength in him until she had some of her own.

Their silent vows were sealed with a kiss under the moonlit sky with the ancient spirits as witness. They would step out on the dark path together and pray that it would lead them right. They had no desire for a life without the other, but they would have to fight many battles and sacrifice more than could be bared before they reached their goals.

It was later, while back at the longhouse, that the first of the dark strands of their web revealed itself. Jarl Ari stood from his high wooden seat and motioned for silence. Immediately drums, harps, and fiddles were put away, the sound of laughter and drinking was cut out like the silence after a bolt of lightning. It was shattering and jarring in its absolute stillness. Jarl Ari had been elected leader and his word was law.

Elísabet rose to her feet to see better. Her skin pricked at the surge of power that had swept down her spine. The winds of change had arrived, and they would blow everything were they willed. She was powerless to stop it and so was Edvard.

"Edvard, son of Birger, Blessed by Odin." There was a smile behind the Jarl's wiry, black beard, but his eyes reminded Elísabet of the hawks. He was up to no good. It took every ounce of strength that she had spent years developing to keep from approaching as Edvard separated himself from the crowd and bowed in front of his lord.

"It is time we advance your status." The Jarl spoke softly and motioned for Edvard to stand. Edvard was confused, but did as he was commanded. He had sworn an oath as a boy to follow Jarl Ari and he would not break it. He could not stop his eyes seeking out Elísabet, however. She stood out in the pure white cloak, and he felt his heart began to race. She was more beautiful than ever and he knew whatever his lord was about to ask of him would break her heart.

"As you know, I have a daughter." The Jarl's voice rose in volume. His eyes did not wander from Edvard's face but it clear he was addressing the crowd as well. "Jóhanna, my only child and heir, has come of age and it's time to find her a husband. I asked her who she fancied, and her answer could not have pleased me more."

It was apparent who she had picked. Jarl Ari had called him forward. Edvard would become Ari's son and heir. He would marry his daughter, produce his grandchildren, and perhaps even succeed him as Jarl. What was a dark thread in Elísabet's web was a golden one in Edvard's. She could think of no one more deserving. He would fulfill his duties and become great.

Edvard could only stare in shock as Jóhanna—petite and blonde, nothing like his Bet—walked forward and the Jarl placed her hand in his. He couldn't turn him down, no matter how wrong Johanna's hand felt in his. Elisabet had been right, he couldn't fight his destiny.

He looked back up to the cheering faces of his friends, family, and the rest of community. There were so many of them, but he only had eyes for one. Tears streamed down her face, but she was still beautiful, her head held high, and her lips forming a smile. Her heart was breaking, but she would be damned if she ruined everything for him. She had a strength greater than all the warriors he knew. He remembered the promise he had made to her just an hour ago to never leave her. Warmth spread through his chest, a warmth that could only come from her and the love they shared.

His eyes pierced hers. He was not giving up on her. He would walk the path that the Norns placed before him, and she would too. They would never lose faith that those paths would intersect again. Edvard and Elísabet knew that they belonged together, and they would fight whatever battles needed to be fought to get there.

Historical Notes

Edvard is an icelandic version of the name Edward.

Isabella is a spanish and italian translation of the name Elizabeth. Therefore I changed her name to the icelandic variant Elísabet.

Aro has no proper translation so I opted instead for the old norse name Ari which means "eagle."

Jane is an english name so I replaced it with the icelandic version Jóhanna.

A jarl is a medieval Scandinavian chieftain or nobleman.

Odin All-Father is the chief god of the norse pantheon.

Freye is the goddess of love, fertility, and battle.

Lofn is the goddess of forbidden love.

Máni is a god. He rides in a cart and guides the moon around Midgard (the earth.)

Thor is the son of Odin and one of the greatest warriors of Asgard (the realm of the gods.)

The Valkyrie carry valiant slain warriors to Valhalla (norse version of heaven) to await the end of the world.

According the Norse Mythology on the night a person is born the Norns, or the fates, weave their Web of Fate out of gold and dark string. The golden string is all the good things that happen in a person's life while the dark is everything bad. Both strings play a part in a person's destiny. Once the web has been weaved it cannot be broken. Even the gods have to follow their fates.


End file.
